Hospital: Part 2

March 13, 2009

I woke up after my craniotomy in neuro ICU. My husband was there, and at the ready. I have no idea how long he’d been waiting, but he went and got me ice chips thank god… I was thirstier than I had ever experienced before.

Taking stock, I was surrounded by bleeping machines. I had a clump of wires coming over my shoulder, each one sticking to a sticky pad monitoring my heart rate. There was a blood pressure cuff, that took my blood pressure at the most inopportune moments. Then there was the tubes… I had an IV in the top of my left hand, one in my left wrist, one in my right wrist, and a central line stitched into my jugular in my neck. They were all attached to one kind of drug or another, Decadron, Dilantin, Morphine…

Next there was the plethora of things around my head. Most noticeably, there was a serious bandage around it. Not just any kind of bandage, but a compression bandage that came right down to my eyebrows and that covered my ears. It was so tight that it was pushing my eyebrows down so I could barely open my eyes! Luckily for me, a nurse came and chopped a bit off so I could see properly again.

The bandage hid a variety of sins. Of course there were the 35 odd staples riddled across my head. Then there was the wire that went into a hole in my scalp and plugged into a monitor that measured inter-cranial pressure, plus the tube that went into yet another hole and drained excess fluid. Couldn’t feel either of them, and when I found out they were there I really didn’t care, they had major jobs to do.

I know it is hard to believe, but my head never hurt! I had a dose or two of morphine because of pain in my neck. So it stays absolutely still, they put your head in a vice-like clamp, and in a totally unnatural position during surgery. My neck was SO stiff I could never have imagined it in my wildest dreams. It was all fine when my head lay on its left hand side, but try and straighten it? Holy crap! I had to support my neck with my hands while I moved my head with it’s heavy bandage.

Neuro ICU was a safe place to be, but not one where you get any sleep! Every hour, on the hour your dedicated nurse came by and did neurological tests. If you are lucky enough to be asleep, you are woken up and lights are flashed in your eyes. You are told to put your arms in the air, IV lines flailing all over the place, and the turn your palms to the ceiling. Next you have to move your legs and push your feet against the nurses hands. Did I mention, every hour on the hour? Then you hear other patients going through the same ritual. I heard a lot of “Lawrence, Lawrence, open your eyes for me please” that night. He didn’t seem to be doing so well.

Everytime a nurse came by to do these checks I asked for yet more water, also asked their name, how long they’d worked in neuro ICU, what time it was, and generally got chatty much to their annoyance. Hey, if you are going to wake me up every hour I expect a conversation out of it!

In the morning my neurosurgeon and his interns came by. About 6 medical students in their neuro rotation stood in an arc around the foot of my bed. Dr Muller proceeded to tell them that “This is is the lady who presented with the olfactory grove meningioma and Foster Kennedy Syndrome.” Forget the interns, I was the one asking the questions, “What syndrome? What’s that? You never said anything about that!” He responded, and I promptly forgot what he said.

The time before 11am and visiting hours begins is BUSY for the patients! Next came my surgeon’s senior resident, and his interns. Shortly thereafter came another nurse who cut off my bandage with scissors. Ahhhhh, the relief, my head no long weighed a tonne!

Then came yet another neurosurgeon, with another medical looking person in tow. He removed the two tubes from my head. There was quite a lot of tube hidden in my head, and while it didn’t hurt when he pulled them out, it felt gross to feel it moving under my scalp! He had to really yank to get them out. Ewww. Then he proceeded to stitch up the remaining holes… no local anesthetic, just the needle and thread. I laughed and used the F word (not the food one for Gordon Ramsay fans) intermittently until he was done.

At some point someone brought breakfast, and someone else came by cleaning the floor… he tested my reactions by nearly pushing my table into my face with his mop. He got the evil eye from me, thats all I can say.

Next came a social worker, then two physiotherapists. They wanted to get me out of bed. So, maneuvering with all my tubes I managed to stand up. Much to the physios chagrin however, a nurse arrived with a wheel chair to take me for a CT scan. Phew, I got to sit down again and was whisked away downstairs. Uuuuugh, but how is it possible to get motion sickness from a wheel chair?! Anesthetic and steroids thats how. That nurse got strict instructions from me to slow down, especially when cornering!

Once back in neuro ICU, a nurse came by and announced I was moving to the ward. All the IVs were removed bar the one in my hand (plugged and left for emergencies), including the horse needle in my neck, and was wheeled off to the neuro and trauma ward. No monitoring machines anymore, I was all on my own less than 24 hours after surgery.

The physiotherapist found me again and I had to go for a walk down the hall and up some stairs. I felt thoroughly gross afterwards and didn’t eat for the rest of the day. Then I felt icky from not eating, then from having to get out of bed… the viscious circle continued. I think I lost 5lbs in those few days.

All this before 11am!

The next day my surgeons came by and announced they wanted to send me home. Yes, one day after surgery. I was still feeling like crap from the anesthetic so managed to get myself one more night in hospital. Never thought I would be asking for that!

Overall my stay in hospital was as good as it could have been, considering I had a craniotomy. Every single person I came into contact with at St. Michael’s Hospital was polite and friendly, and the whole place was so efficient.

For those of you who have a date with the surgeon like I did, I really didn’t feel anywhere near as bad as I expected afterwards. It was terrifying beforehand, and it wasn’t fun afterwards, but it really wasn’t that bad at all! Recovery on the other hand requires much time, patience, and a level of self awareness that allows you to recognise (and work on) the subtle differences your brain presents you with on a day to day basis.

3 Responses to “Hospital: Part 2”

Hi I too had an olfactory groove meningioma. my experience was somewhat like yours. i had 53 staples in my head, along with a drain in my head and back, i had all the iv lines, central lines, pressure lines in my wrist, all kinds of tubes BUT.. like you my head did not hurt but MY NECK GAVE ME HECK.. i could not hold mine up.. i believe that was the worst part. Also i was in the neuro ICU for 5 days. i was up and walking the next day after surgery. I lost my sense of smell i can not smell anything. Can you?

Thank you for your journal. I am having meningioma removed Oct. 8th (2010) and I had been looking for photos so I can see what it looks like after. I wanted to be prepared and to prep my kids and friends.

Good luck Cheryl. For a couple of days I didn’t look in the mirror as I have always been quite sqeemish. But then I started closely inspecting it just fine 🙂 It’s easy to wear hats to cover the staples for those first few days so you can go out in public without being stared at. Well.. in Toronto in Jan/Feb a hat is a necessity anyways!

About me and this blog

This blog is about navigating a glitch in the road. On Dec 2nd 2008 I found out I had an Olfactory Groove Meningioma, a benign tumour on the meninges — the membranes that surround your brain and spinal cord.

The little bugger was removed surgically by craniotomy on Jan 28th 2009. Recent times have led me to spend a lot of time with my GP, neurosurgeon, neurologist, naturopath, and osteopath, and this is an account from diagnosis through recovery.

I hope this provides some insight to family, friends, and those who are embarking on the same journey. In my own insignificant way, I'd like to raise awareness of meningiomas and help in early detection, if just for one person.